


Unyielding

by gowerstreet



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Caretaking, Established Relationship, John Watson Takes Care of Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Safeword compliant, elements of BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gowerstreet/pseuds/gowerstreet
Summary: A frustrated  Holmes is a menace to all, including himself.  Thankfully Watson has the means to take defuse the tension.





	Unyielding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [221BJen (jcoz1701)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcoz1701/gifts).



> Dedicated to the ever-encouraging 221BJen, for encouraging me to expand my writing horizons.

“Come to bed.” But Holmes would hear nothing of it. He swept past Watson’s chair, hands slashing the air.

“There is too much left to do to waste time on sleep.”

Watson’s fingers pushed into the leather flesh of the chair. This was intolerable. The case was not even half over, but Holmes already seemed strung out and as wide-eyed as though he had been sleepless for a fortnight, not merely three days.

 

Different tactics were now  required. The Watson who rose from his chair was far less the  doctor and much more the officer as he strode across the room. Holmes glared at him, all sign of affection lost from his eyes. “Sleep if you must, but leave me to think.”

“Not. Without. You.” He stood fast, just as immovable as the man in front of him. “Bed. Now. Either under your own steam, or under mine.”

Holmes’ eyes widened at the inference. “You would not.”

“I just have. I can. I will. An officer does not allow any man in his company to stumble blindly towards self destruction. Three hours will do.”

“And if I do not?”

Watson’s eyes hardened. “There are preparations within my bag which will assist me. I would prefer not to tread that path, but it will not discourage me unduly.  _ Do _ I make myself clear?”

Holmes swallowed down the last shreds of rebellion. “Understood.” The “Sir” was silent, but both heard it just the same.

"Good." A fractional warmth returned to his voice. "You have fifteen minutes to be stripped and settled on top of the sheets. You will not say another word beyond acknowledging my wishes. Do you understand?"

"I do…" He replied. "Sir."

“Now off with you. The clock has already started to wind down." Watson returned to his chair, a certain satisfaction growing in his bones. 

Holmes’ body  was in a tight furl when Watson entered the room. Holmes did not openly acknowledge his presence until Watson growled, “Safeword.”He removed his jacket and waistcoat with military speed, letting them fall where they might, waiting for the desired response.

“Norwood, Sir.”

“Good. You will say nothing more than that or Sir  without my express permission from here on in.” 

“Sir.”

"On your back," was a command wrapped in velvet. It was ignored until Watson took a firm grip on his hips and pushed until he complied. "Hands on the headboard." Again, the same resistance. Watson searched over him, eyes for danger. "Three. Two. One…"

Holmes focused on the wall beyond Watson's head, but his hands reached up and grasped the head of the bed. He received a smile for his troubles along with a sharp nip to the collarbone. He gasped, choking back the groan in his throat. Watson's fingers spiralled over the mark before leaning in and trailing his tongue across a rib cage too sharply defined for his liking.

"I should keep you like this," he whispered. “Feed you by hand until those ribs disappear. Bind those beautiful hands to the wall. Force your body towards the oblivion that pleasure brings.” He blew at the wiry curls of Holmes's groin, and watched as his erection strained and stretched, desperate for attention.

Watson leaned ever closer. "Not long now." His breath was moist against Holmes' belly. "But keep still, or I will keep you on the edge all night. Understand?"

"Sir."

"Continue to be obedient and I will give you release. Move more than a hair's breadth and I will stretch you to the corners of this bed, then leave to sleep elsewhere."

Holmes forced his gaze towards the brightness of Watson's eyes. "Sir," came out in a more determined fashion this time. Watson's face was a work of glimmering edges as he slipped his lips round Holmes's cock, sucking with  a ferocity of ever increasing tenderness. Holmes’ breathing grew more rapid and his whole body pinked as the pressure built. Watson swallowed down the first traces of pre-come, then took Holmes in hand while he grabbed a breath for himself. The fingers of his left hand slid up and down the straining cock, while his right rolled the bollocks to and fro. "Such a beautiful specimen," he crooned, blowing tantalising breaths across its weeping head. “I could play with it for hours. Shall I do so?"

Holmes's eyes widened. He shivered with the idea. "Are you sure you want this now?"

Holmes nodded. "Sir…?" Was the now plaintive gasp from the desperate throat. Watson leaned in until his teeth touched the shell of Holmes’ ear. "Paint me," he commanded. " And let me hear you shout."

Holmes arched up into the touch and cried out as Watson's hand was striped by the spurting jets of his release. Tears stung his eyes as the exhaustion of the past week finally took hold.

Watson's handkerchief was briefly draped across Holmes' groin, gently wiping away his essence before it became uncomfortable. "Sleep now." Holmes's eyes slid closed as he finally allowed himself to succumb to sleep. Watson took his hands, loosening their grip on the headboard and guiding them down to rest against the sheets. Once he was assured that all was well, he left his own clothes in a wrinkled tangle on the floor and curled himself against Holmes, dragging the blankets up over their shoulders.

He felt the weight of the day dissipate between one breath and the next, but the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was the sensation of a long, slender arm pulling him closer, and a gravelly mumble riffling through his hair. " My wondrous man."

Watson's lips found the curving plane of Holmes' cheek. "My glorious fool."

Silence  overtook them both in the attic bedroom above the darkened streets, and all was well until at least the dawn.


End file.
